Plain & Simple
by amajing
Summary: AU, SatoshiRisa. Americanized Risa Harada is sent off to Japan as a punishment from her father. She begins to scheme a way to get back to America, but when Satoshi Hikari comes along, will her plans backfire?
1. Chapter 1

**plain and simple**.

_Disclaimer_: I don't own DNANGEL or any of its characters, music, etc. They all belong to Sugisaki, ne. If I did own them, however, Satoshi/Risa would be the main pairing HANDS DOWN XD But then it wouldn't ... oh, you know what. Never mind. Read on. D

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**01. START LINE**

The warmth of the summer breeze brushed against my skin as I sat cross-legged in the passenger seat of my uncle's sports car.

"We're almost there," he said, in his husky voice. I couldn't help but to wonder where "there" was. All that Uncle Max had told me was that we were driving to his house, which was not supposed to be far from Tokyo Airport. If three hours of driving was not considered far for the Japanese, I was ready and willing to take the first plane back to New Jersey. I absolutely could not stand long car rides, nonetheless ones that required sitting through who knew who many hours of bubbly, upbeat Japanese pop. Not that there was anything wrong with the music; it was just very new to me. Sure, I was Japanese by blood, but at heart, I was one-hundred percent American. There was absolutely no way of changing that, either. My hair had been dyed blonde; I wore blue contacts. Anime? Manga? _My Super Sweet Sixteen,_ and _Vogue_. Ayu? Koda? Utada? Avril, Lindsay, and Ashley.

The only things I loved Japanese were ramen and sushi. But everything else could go back into the basement, locked away in cardboard boxes labeled with things I'd never be able to read. Nor did I intend to learn how to read, actually, even living in Japan now. I wasn't planned to start school for another few weeks. I still had time to torture the hell out of my Uncle, cry to my mother every way I possibly could, and make it back to New Jersey in time for my sophomore year, at Saint Francis's, as _I'd _intended.

So who had intended for me to live in Japan with my Uncle? My father. Now, let me get this straight with you before I begin to rant. I love that man dearly. He raised me; he supports me; he is everything to my mother and me. But that one night, he was completely _fed up _with me. Not the "You're grounded!"-fed up, either, but the fed up that made you want to crawl into a ditch and never come back out. And it was scary. And this, Japan, was payback.

It all started while we were sitting in the car one evening, while picking up my mother for work. He was testing my mental math skills, and I'd managed to screw up, at a very easy problem, at that matter. This completely infuriated him, and he began to trash every single thing I'd loved -- from my music, to my values, to my makeup and my friends. It was a never-ending nightmare, those forty five minutes. But it only got worse when we got back into the house, and I sat, typing a rant onto my Live Journal. Storming into my bedroom without even knocking (Could you believe?), he demanded me to shut off my computer. I did so, and he sat down on my bed. For a moment, I truly believed he was going to apologize to me; but rather, he came to announce my punishment.

"You have no pride in your Japanese heritage – or any of your Asian ancestry, for that matter," He began. _So? _I thought. He must have read my mind, because he went on, "So your mother and I have decided. We called your Uncle Max" -- instantly, my eyes widened. Uncle Max? This couldn't be good. – "and he was gracious enough to allow you to live with him in _Japan _for the remainder of your high school education. Should you refuse? Well, that's your problem, because you're going. You're going to discipline yourself while you are there, as well. Don't take Max for granted. He will be as strict with you as we are, and I am very sure he will be most displeased to hear how you have completely…_white-washed _yourself in your fifteen years. When you come back, I expect to see at least some pride in you."

I blinked. My mouth opened, but words didn't come out. Was this a joke? He had to be kidding. He _had _to be. But of course, with me sitting here in Uncle Max's sports car, he hadn't been. It was funny how anger could get people to do such silly things. And now, here I was, riding along as the car passed skyscrapers, shoppers, and tourists, all which formed a blurry wall of pinks, whites and browns against the bright blue Japan sky.

With all that said.

Welcome to the start of the worst days of my life.  
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There you have it; I know it's short, but it's only an introduction after all. But anyway, reviews would be nice. Criticism is a zillion times welcome, just please word things nicely. 


	2. Chapter 2

**02. Beautiful Boy**

So, tell me, what would you do if you were dragged to a foreign country to live with a deadbeat relative for three years of your life – those three years being your _high school _years of them all? Whine, protest, but say your goodbyes – am I right? Now, what would you do if you were a plot-scheming genius like me? Ruin your deadbeat relative's life, of course.

From the second I'd met Uncle Max at Tokyo airport two weeks ago, to the second he left for work this morning, I had been observing, observing, and observing. And in fourteen days, I'd come to some very, very well-thought out (or just plain obvious) conclusions.

Uncle Max was a workaholic. (That sadly made it harder for me to observe him so much.)

He could not dress. (So, I had to criticize him constantly.)

He had a thing for tea ceremonies. (So, I had to hate them and mess them up whenever we attended one.)

His teen daughter, Misa, was currently at boarding school with a scholarship. His pride for her was endless. (So, I must fail at Japanese class and – if I am still for some reason here – Sakura High School)

He hated my music. (So, I must blast it.)

He was optimistic.

Number six on that list irked me the most. He never gave up on me, not even when I accused his Coach man-purse to be a fraud, not even when I spilled tea all over his yukata. He would sigh; shake his head; take a deep breath and smile at me. He would say, "One day, you will appreciate it. I'm sure."

Oh, Uncle Max…as they would say, 'Ignorance is bliss,' isn't it? I had been exposed to Japanese culture since the moment I was born, and it had never, not once, interested me. Tea ceremonies – why go through with them? Yukatas and kimonos were so out of style. Utada's _Flavor of Life _could not begin to compare to Avril's _Keep Holding On_.

The honking of a horn suddenly interrupted my thoughts. I ran over to my window to see who was outside, but I couldn't say who it was. All that ran through my brain during that precise moment was one word – _hottie_!

I must have been gawking for a long time, because minutes later Uncle Max was joining me, slightly interested on whatever it was going on. "What's so interesting over there?" He asked. I pointed out to the window and asked him if he knew who that was.

"Oh, Satoshi – oh, oh, man! He's your ride!"

"Ride?" Ride to where? Not like it mattered; from the looks of it, I was ready to go just about _anywhere _with Mr. Beautiful.

--

Anywhere but Japanese class, anyway. It turned out Mr. Beautiful was going to attend Japanese class with me over the summer. At least I was going to make a friend (or maybe more) this way; perhaps, Mr. Beautiful could even help me with my diabolical plan to return to America.

But maybe he should _open his mouth_ first.

The whole ride to class was very long and boring. Mr. Beautiful hadn't said more than a hello to me; instead, he kept his attention on the road, only glancing at my every now and again. What a loser. Didn't he see what he had right here, in the passenger seat? Or maybe, with his looks, he had a lot of girlfriends. Or maybe he was just deaf and mute. Yeah, that had to be it.

The second that Satoshi parked his car, heads turned. I received angry glares from what I expected to be my female classmates, and Satoshi received pats on the back and praises from the boys. Oh, how typical was that? Not even a minute into seeing other teenagers in Tokyo, and already, I was envied. Oh, Risa, you were _good_.

"Come on," Satoshi extended his hand out for mine, helping me get out of the car. I took it, and all of a sudden, I felt my cheeks warm up. He probably noticed, too; after a few seconds, he released my hand. "Class is in room 4B, first floor. You can find that alright, can't you? I have to go to the bathroom. You can wait if you like."

"No, that's alright…I'll go. Thanks, though, um—" Unexpectedly, I found myself searching my mind for a proper honorific. Crap! I couldn't be. Not already, not at all! Quick, Risa, just call him Satoshi. "Thank you, Satoshi."

But he was already gone, relieving himself.

* * *

I have gone pretty much braindead with this story, I'm sorry. ;-; I had plans for it before and thought "OH this is so the one I'm going to finish and actually be proud of myself" but eh. I'm not feeling it much, lol. I'm trying though & just wanted to update a bit. See you next time! 


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